I'm kind of curious... what makes someone (in their own mind) a respectable pot-smoker and what (again, in their own mind) distinguishes them from those pot-smokers whom they might deem as non-respectable?

"Darned irrespectable pot smokers with their natural-fiber clothing and their hemp leaves printed all over everything and their Phish music and their munchies all the time... give us respectable pot-smokers a bad name!"

If Bush manages to carry this through without bumbling it he'll have my support (at least until his next daffy flip-flop). I also love the absurd manner and language with which the author of that Globe piece has forced himself, through his own idealogy, to write that piece.

Sunday, September 29, 2002

Cardinal Maida's Letter

Here's the letter which was to be read at all Masses this last weekend. It wasn't read at our 12:30 Mass, however, though I don't think the omission was intentional. Cardinal Maida is our prelate here in the Archdiocese of Detroit, where one can find the home-parish of gubernatorial hopeful Jennifer Granholm, Our Lady of Good Council. While Maida is no Chaput, there are, to be sure, far worse Shepherds out there.

My Brothers and Sisters in the Lord:

Our annual Respect Life observance takes on special meaning and significance this October 2002 as we continue to remember with sorrow last year's terrorist attacks, and as we prepare for next month's election. Daily, we hear reports of many forms of violence and abuse to human life near and far. Now more than ever, we recognize that the gift of life is precious, yet very fragile.

As we reflect on the wide-scale violent abuse of life, we cannot help but be dismayed that over one million lives are being lost each year to abortion. In the name of the Lord, we are compelled to respond by defending the dignity of every human life - from the first moment of conception until the last natural breath. Recognizing that we are stewards - not owners - of life, we see a necessary and unavoidable connection between our worship of God and our respect for His presence in every human being.

Struggling with where and how to change the minds and hearts of our fellow citizens, we find direction from the bishops of our country who have written in our National Pastoral Plan for Life: "We must begin with a commitment never to intentionally kill or collude in the killing of any innocent human life, no matter how broken, unformed, disabled, or desperate that life may seem."

Abortion, the direct taking of human life prior to birth, is always a moral evil; the same is true for the deliberate destruction of human embryos. Likewise, assisted suicide or euthanasia is morally unacceptable. Direct attacks on innocent civilians and acts of terrorism are also morally unjustifiable. Simply put, we wish to proclaim and live a "consistent ethic of life," affirming the dignity of all life and condemning any form of violence that would weaken or destroy that life.

Every day, every one of us recommits ourselves to the dignity of life: we do so by bringing life into this world and educating and forming our children. We also affirm life as we work to ensure the right of all people to quality education and dignified labor, especially immigrants and marginalized persons. Many of us have the privilege of bringing healing for the body or spirit at very critical moments in the life journey through our work in the health care profession or as public servants of the common good as law enforcement officers and fire fighters. Some of us are privileged to serve in positions of leadership in business and commerce, as well as in government - settings in which you shape legislation which defends the life of all, especially the most vulnerable.

Catholic public officials have a special moral obligation to understand and accept wholeheartedly the Church's teaching on the dignity of innocent human life; they may never advocate for, or actively support, legislation which would allow direct attacks on innocent human life. When it is impossible to overturn or prevent passage of a law which allows or promotes abortion, an elected official should always seek to limit the harm done by such laws. Nor can Catholic political leaders justify inaction with regard to the dignity of human life simply on the grounds that abortion is the law of the land, because ultimately, there is a higher law, the law of God.

These basic truths about right and wrong must shape our political judgments and our decisions about how we vote. The charge laid upon me by Christ compels me to speak to these issues and underscore the questions that each of us has to consider between now and election day: What is the candidate's commitment to supporting quality health care benefits and educational opportunity of all, especially the poor and the vulnerable? Where does the candidate stand on the death penalty? And most importantly, where does the candidate stand on abortion - "the preeminent threat to human dignity because it directly attacks life itself, the most fundamental human good and the condition for all others" (Michigan Catholic Conference, "A Catholic View to Elections 2002," June 26, 2002).

In closing, I thank you for your personal and family witness to life, a commitment that has characterized our local Church of Detroit for 170 years. Over the decades, we have made a powerful impact on the wider society precisely because we have presented a unified and respectful voice on behalf of the dignity of all human life. Together, may we join minds, hands, and hearts in a renewed commitment to defend and promote the dignity of life, God's greatest gift!

So where has Victor been all day? I'm a little ashamed to admit this, but Monica got us a copy of Animal Crossing for the Nintendo GameCube. It's a little hard to explain to someone who hasn't played it just how immersive this "game" really is. In a nutshell though: you play a little moppet who's come to a town (the town is randomly generated when you give it a name) filled with a random assortment of little animals each with their own name, personalities, and sense of interior design. The game plays in real-time (thanks to the GameCube's internal clock) which means that when it's Saturday, September 29th, at 3pm in the "real world" that's what time and date it is in the game's world. Anyway, the whole point of the experience is to do favors for the animals, plant trees, harvest fruit, collect shells, fossils, insects, fish, etc. and to build up your house and fill it with all sorts of cool things (like furniture, neat little toys, etc.). The coolest thing of all, though, is that your animal friends will occasionally give you an old NES game which you can actually then play on the GameCube or download (via a special cable) to your GameBoy Advance to play on the go. These games are perfectly emulated from the old NES classis.

But it's really easy to get wrapped up in it all -- paying off your mortgage to Tom Nook the local raccoon shopkeeper, trying to track down your friend Lily the frog who has left town for some reason, waiting for the reply from the Farway Museum to see if that fossil you dug up is worth anything. What's even more cool than playing with the animals, though, is that if you have a friend (or wife) who is into the game, you can travel to (or even live in) the towns they've created. So from Vicville it's only a short train-ride to Jackie's Jamstown where the peaches which grow only in Vicville sell for five-times as much. You can also send letters to your friends, both human and animal. Jackie sent me a whole bunch of letters with presents in them (mainly stuff she didn't need anymore -- but could've sold -- to spruce up my house). While I'm writing this Jackie is designing some new clothes (the game comes with a pixel-map editor and you can apply the patterns to clothes, umbrellas, your house, etc. or trade them with your friends) and catching crickets (there are three types we know about) because they're only out at night.

Unfortunately, though, it has not helped my solipsistic tendencies. Granted the world of Animal Crossing is a far cry from the real world (though at least in Animal Crossing if you don't want to track down Chow the panda's missing glasses case you don't have to) it's not too far of an epistemological leap into a sort of Berkelian idealism where we're all "just" characters in some omniscient Programmer's fractally-generated universe (digging up fossils which only appear to have been planted there millions of years ago). Of course, even though this is something which cannot be disproven, it’s still worth noting that this world outside of Animal Crossing is about as real as it gets.

Saturday, September 28, 2002

"Clearance Clearwater Revival guitar tabs" brought someone to my site (guess that's what they call Credence's discount CDs). Also three searches for "angry skinheads" (don't know that I've ever used the word "skinheads" on my 'blog... will have to check -- ah yes, here it is: July 26, 2001... and now, of course, again in this very post).

Also, for those of you who suffer from chronic headaches: try 500mg of magnesium right when you feel the headache coming on. It seems to work. And is probably better for you and cheapaer than all that Excedrin.

Also, Mayize has unveiled the new look of her site, including FOUR different 'blog skins from which you may choose when reading her 'blog. I'll leave it up to you to determine which one I like best (hint: it's either the cowgirl or the Buffy skins -- not the cheeky faery skin).

And Pixar is the best damned Animation Studio that ever was. That's all I have to say tonight. If you haven't seen Monsters, Inc. yet now that it's out on DVD (and yes, VHS) you have no excuse whatsoever not to get up off your sorry butt and rent it. I laughed (a bunch) and I cried (twice). It rules. I think I would be happy never seeing any movie ever again that didn't do me like this movie did me.

Friday, September 27, 2002

I'm "auditioning" Bravenet webstats as my WebTrendsLive will be going away on Monday. I like being able to see the google searches which bring people here.. though I don't know if I can view more than just the last 50 visitors.

So far my favorite searches are:

"Funkadelic Cowbell" This makes sense. I've gone on at great length about both Funkadelic and cowbells in the past."Japenese/English Love" Not a great deal of experience (or 'blogposts) in this arena, sorry."Womens tempress movement" Not sure if they meant "women's temperence" or "women's temptress". I know a great deal more about one than the other.

There are more, of course, and I cannot wait to see what tomorrow brings.

Don't you dare try to receive communion while genuflecting in one Parish in Arlington, VA, as Catholic Light points out.

It's been a pretty outrageous week for the Church: first diocese after diocese begin releasing lists of accused and suspected sex-offenders (living and dead, mispelled and not, laicized or still active) and now this. If I didn't have so much already invested in Catholicism (like my salvation, for instance), I'm not sure there'd be many reasons why I wouldn't run off and join...

A fine piece on a fine 'blog (a Buffy fan!) I just now "discovered". Since archives aren't working properly, you may have to scroll down to that headline. But you can't miss it. It's a really good piece and I can't think of another place where I've seen that particular angle, at least not articulated as such.

This is why Mark Shea rules and why, maybe -- just maybe! -- I should be slipping him a little something under the table. No, I'm not reversing my stand against 'blegging. Just, ah, amending it. Quietly. Go read his piece. Nothing more to see here.

Thursday, September 26, 2002

I don't know any of the details and I'm not a regular reader of Gerard's 'blog, but from just about every angle (they couldn't even spell his name right!) it seems the full-on witch-hunt has begun. We knew it was coming, right? We didn't think we could live with the phrase "zero-tolerance" (think about that: no tolerance. Nada. Zip. None at all) and not expect the suspicion and black-listing to begin.

Yes, if one is guilty of such abuse it's better they get the whole millstone around the neck and into the sea deal, but remember: that's a two-way street. Mass listingings? "Mistakes were made?" And you've just destroyed someone's reputation? Without even checking to see if the guy's name is spelled correctly? As a manager with employees under me, whose conduct for which I'm held responsible, I ask: what sort of cowardice is that on the part of our bishops? Anyone can put together a list and send it out. It's a great way to convince people you're doing the right thing and to draw the fire away from you. But you had damned well better make sure you spell people's names correctly at the very least.

I stole this link from Zorak. Promise me you won't tell. I don't want my head bitten off.

ReemCo Cat Mantis. Not sure if that's Robot Love or Robot Torment. Neither, probably, because it's just radio-controlled, not really a robot. Actually not even. The "controller" is a Tiger Electronics LCD game and the base of the mantis looks like some sort of Builder Bob earthmover vehicle. Still, it's fun to dream. And when you dream, dream of the ReemCo Plecostoma. And you will never sleep again.

Anyway, while I was about coppin' a robble-robble 'tude, I stole this one from the mantis, too, because it's funny: The Onion: Ask the Dauphin. It's also the first Onion article I've read since 1998. How about that.

Wednesday, September 25, 2002

Here are my suggestions for new programming to be developed, from the comment section to her post (though Gregg the Obscure's and Jeff Miller's suggestions are also riots in themselves):

"Bringing Up Grodi" - Marcus Grodi inherits a farm and a large family -- but who's really in charge? Marcus, the kids, or the cows?
"Fr. Groeshel, The Vampire Slayer" - Keeping the streets of the Bronx safe from the walking undead, Fr. Groeshel and his rag-tag group of CFR brothers take prime-time action to the next level.
"Game Hahn!" - Dr. Scott Hahn hosts this weekly roller-skate street-hockey grudgematch.
"Whose Line Is It Anyway?" - Orthodox priests and headstrong liturgical ministers clash over which parts of the Mass belong to whom.
"Raw Deal" - Deal Hudson is a cop playing by his own rules as he infiltrates the ranks of the VOTF, trying to find the men and women who killed his partner.
"Everybody Loves Popcak" - Licensed therapist and NYC sports writer Greg Popcak teams up with on-screen wife Patricia Heaton as the couple squares-off each week against Greg's overbearing parents, played by Dr. Alice von Hildebrand and Bob Lord.

Some aimed at a younger crowd:
"Fr. George Rutler's Fun With Words" - Fr. Rutler livens up his history of the english language, from its pinnacle in the oratories of Winston Churchill all the way back to its roots in the people of the Indus valley, with historical bon mots in this educational show positioned solidly for the 2-to-4-year-old pre-school market.
"Refute Me or Be Kicked" - Catholic Apologeticist and kickboxing champion Jesse Romero invites a different Evangelical Protestant into the small ring each week on this Catholic apologetics/kickboxing show. Last man standing is right!
"Raymond Arroyo's Taxicab Confessions" - Come cruise the Big Easy with Raymond as Arroyo's hometown provides the perfect place to pick up good fares -- and good confessions.
"NFP Blue" - Each month co-stars Dennis Franz and Debra Monk find new and innovative ways to express their mutual love and affection for each other without intercourse. They are also cops.

First off, I can't even believe the show has lasted this long. After both the fifth and sixth seasons I was sure the show was dead, broken for good. But it's now trudged into its seventh season. I think it was pretty clear to the producers that they didn't have any new directions in which to take the show and that it pretty much peaked in its third season (when they blew up the high school real good in order to kill the mayor who'd turned himself into a 60'-long snake demon... long story, great battle). I liked bits of season 4 (mainly the whole Initiative/Cybernetic-Demon angle) but the show officially jumped the shark, in my opinion, when season 5 began by introducing (and summarily dispatching) Count Dracula.

But now we're back for a seventh season and the show has gone back to school. A brand new high school has been built smack dab on top of the (charred remains of the) old one. The principal seems, in contrast to Principal Snyder (who was eaten by the snake demon), like a nice guy (but not as psycho-babbly as Principal Flutie -- who was eaten by a pack of hyena children). But something is definitely amiss. The school is haunted by summoned vengeful spirits, victims of the school whom Buffy couldn't protect, (by whom we don't know) which haunt Buffy and her sister Dawn on Dawn's first day of school. And since the principal's office is built right on top of the Hellmouth, where the library used to be, there's probably more weirdness to come. For example, why is the newly en-souled Spike cooling his heels in the school's basement? Willow and Giles are off in England for Willow's witchy-rehab (she tried to destroy the world last season) and we learn that all life is connected by plant roots with Gaia and the tree spirits and the earth has a mouth with teeth which will swallow us all, bla, bla, bla, yackity-schmackity. But with Tara dead and gone, Willow doesn't have a boudoir scene this episode. This (er, Willow's monologue, not her lack of a bedroom scene) is to signal the season's main evil "Big Bad" -- as the show calls what we gamers would call the "Final Boss" of the season.

Previous seasons have seen this Big Bad be the oldest of all the vampires (The Master), Buffy's boyfriend Angel (though Dru and Spike were in there too), the aformentioned Mayor, Adam the Cybernetic-Human/Demon built by the government, Glory -- a god, and last season brought us... a bunch of nerds (they did do the show a favor and shoot Tara, though). Anyway, there was a nice sequence with Spike where the prime evil (somehow responsible for having a bunch of hooded figures kill a young lady in Istanbul in the show's teaser -- unless that was just some wry commentary on Islam by the show's producers, which I doubt) who is tormenting Spike in his cell (under the school) morphs, in reverse chronological order, into all of the aforementioned Big Bads of the past six seasons -- ending with Buffy herself. It was really really cool to see all of those actors again, especially Harry Groener as the Mayor and Mark Metcalf as The Master. Anyway, while tormenting Spike they drop a hint as to what the prime evil (supposedly older than even the god Glory) this season is all about: it's not about good and evil this time, but power. So the Big Bad this season must be a shape-shifting Friedrich Nietzsche.

Anyway, it looks better than last season (the high school is back and we've already met Dawn's own Scooby Gang Jr.) but we need to remember that even last season started off on a strong note (Buffy-bot! Yay!).

Over at HMS 'Blog Emily Stimpson discovers FuriousGeorge. It's kind of cute, really, because although the pariculars have been lost long ago in the torpid, swirling bathwater of time, I can still remember my first time.

Okay. My Fantasy Football team, Robot Team #1, got -- as Larry Graham might say -- "stomped, beat-up, and whooped" last weekend, 97-77. I've now dropped to 3/10 in the WorldFraud league with my 2-1-0 record. Bleh. Next week, though, one of my Wide Receivers (I still have no idea what a Wide Receiver does, but never mind) and my back-up defense play Detroit. Aw, yeah. It's win-time.

I have shamelessly pinched from Mark Maier's 'blog the Forbes Fictional 15 list -- yes the list of the 15 wealthiest fictional characters. Go to either Mark's 'blog or the Forbes link (Steve Forbes was our commencement speaker at Hillsdale -- yay!) for the list.

Mark wonders why Robin Masters isn't on the list. I don't know. All I know is that Cobra Commander isn't on the list either and he's got to be at least as wealthy as Richie Rich. How many Rattler jets or Crimson Guard did Richie have? Huh? Zartan and those Dreadnoughts don't come cheaply. And don't even get me started on how much it must've cost to keep Destro in metal polish for all those years.

Monday, September 23, 2002

Jonesin'

I need new gear. No, I don't think you heard me: I NEED new gear. See, I've got this project coming up and in order to do it right, I need some new recording equipment otherwise my best efforts and comprehensive artistic vision will not be realized. I figure that first off I need a USB audio interface to put audio more cleanly into the computer. You can get these with a bunch of slick sliders and knobs so you can actually use it as a control surface for your computer's recording software. They run about $500-600. Of course, then I'd need new software, too (Cakewalk Home Studio v8.1 just ain't cuttin' it). So I figure that if I can score the competitive upgrade on Cakewalk's SONAR program, that'll set me back another $250. Of course I'll need some new loops and maybe a software synth or two so figure on another $300 for those (and I can probably get away without the new Roland sound module at that point, so I actually "save" about $700 there). Of course there's no way my 3-year-old PC will be able to handle any of this new software (SONAR requires Windows '98 SE or higher, for one thing) so I'll need to buy a new PC. Something fast, like a 2.4ghz Intel 4. It doesn't need to be a laptop, though that would be cool and facilitate the creative process. So that's about another $1600 (DVD-R/W is a must, just in case I want to do video with it, too). And I already got my Rode microphone, so I'm cool there (unless I want to record in a Church or something and then I'd need another condenser mic for ambience). Is anyone keeping track? That's about $2750, I think -- plus tax which is another $165. Yeesh. Time was I could've dropped that on music gear easy and not thought about the consequences. Man, have I come a long way since then. Still, there's that sick, deprived part of me that will always be jonesin' for the new gear; a true gearaholic never really recovers, they say... Still, if anyone wanted to buy 324 copies of Robot Love... Spare change?

Not much I can really say to top the site itself. Except that my favorite entrance, so far, is Tooky, "scene of the devils last minute escape before Christmas 1942, when Al Capone made his ill-advised attempt to kidnap the devil's son Big Joe."

I'd really prefer it if the Christian Coalition wouldn't presume to speak for all of Christianity here (as, in fact, they cannot -- one would think the Palestinian Christians would not be in full agreement with the CC on this point). Though -- and I admit I need to get my mind out of the gutter here -- their combined Christian Coalition/Israeli logo on that page (the grey one) cracks me up.

Thanks to Mark Shea, who found this link: Priest who imitates Elvis threatens Anglican schism. The joke is, of course that the Anglican church has become, at least to this ill-informed observer, permissive of a great many things... just not Elvis. From what I do know, however, he probably could've gotten away with dressing up as a Teletubby and cooing his way through liturgies.

Fred Rogers on the responsibility of being an artist and the covenant formed with the viewer/reader .

""You are special to me. Do you know why? Well you see I'm a man who likes to talk and sing with children. So I need someone like you who likes to listen to a man like me. After all, it's you who make your mom a mother and it's you who make your dad a father. And it's really you who make me your special friend. I need you. See why you're so special to me?"

Basically, SoBe has pushed the notion of hip exclusivity to its logical conclusion—the product whose very existence mocks the fundamental and unchangeable inadequacies of those who wish to consume it. The result is marketing by taunt.

This is particularly amusing because SoBe is, obviously, a product whose most salient characteristic is phoniness.

Sunday, September 22, 2002

In The Bedroom

That's the name of the movie Jackie and I saw tonight. It got a lot of good press when it was out in the theaters as a film made for adults (as opposed to a lot of films made with adults which are really for adolescents). Also Barbara Nicolosi mentioned in her class that it had Catholic themes in it, and I do love those Catholic themes (which it does have in spades). But several of the reviews I read thought the title came from the fact that many conversations (well a few) between Sissy Spacek and Tom Wilkinson (yes, for all of those who may be wondering, Wilkinson -- who played the head bad guy in the first Rush Hour movie -- does manage a credible American accent, which is a good thing as the movie takes place in Maine) take place in an actual literal bedroom (their own). Anyway, this is not the case. The title of the movie (as the movie itself tells you within the first ten minutes) comes from the lobster cage which is sometimes called a "bedroom". This is because in the "bedroom" there is room enough for two lobsters to chill and be cool until someone comes along to eat them, but if you get a third lobster in there it gets too crowded and bad stuff happens. And therein lies the moral of the story: so too in marriage, there is room for one female lobster with berries and maybe a male lobster, too, but when you throw the Mean Old Lobster of Avarice into the pot (or cage or "bedroom" as the case may be) someone is likely to lose a claw (or indeed THEIR VERY SOUL). In addition to the moral, a bunch of other stuff happens in the movie that I don't want to give away. But the secondary moral is that some people really are too stupid to live so you probably want to make sure you have as many kids as possible to cover your losses.

Kind of a slow night. Jackie and I watched two Game Show Network original gameshows (where contestants compete for thousands of dollars, instead of hundreds of thousands): "Russian Roulette", where an incorrect answer wins you the chance to drop through a hole in the floor (really) and "Friend or Foe", a rather fascinating constestant-driven show where three teams of two people each work to earn money and then have the option of either sharing it (if the two players trust each other) or totally screwing the other person over (if they trust you and you stab them in the back, you get it all and they get nada) at the end. It's also hosted by ex-MTV-VJ Kennedy, who made an obscure Tony Hawk Pro Skater 3 reference on tonight's show (I still don't think that gaming culture has really penetrated the popular-culture at large so any reference to Pro Skater 3 is going to be obscure in my book). It's nice that she's found work, though. Both shows, however, are an example of just the indelible mark "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire" has left on the gameshow landscape in terms of set-design, audio-design, and lighting-design and an example of the equally-indelible mark "The Weakest Link" has left in terms of a complete lack of contestant coddling (though the host of "Russian Roulette" was rather nice about dropping people through holes in the floor -- kind of weird to have the gameshow end and have NO contestants standing around clapping... they'd all been dropped, every one).

Saturday, September 21, 2002

Kathryn Lively is funny! Blogs4God.com is having a logo contest. I don't suppose Lively's "Borgs4God" logo below has a shot of winning, but it was too humorous to not post here (plus, she graciously allowed me to do so). Click the logo to visit her 'blog.

Kind of makes you wonder if there's a fanfic story out there about a subsect of evangelizing Borg and if not perhaps it's time somebody wrote one.

It must really rock to be Mel Gibson. Not only do you get to make an authentic Jesus film, but you get to film it in Latin and Aramaic without subtitles. As long as no one chickens out along the way, this sounds like it'd be pretty cool. Hopefully, too, this makes Jim Caviezel the next Mel.

Friday, September 20, 2002

Armin Shimerman threw open the door, his bare chest glistening in the light of the full moon. "Tonight, I will be your Ferengi," he growled.

Kathryn Lively has an interesting post on her 'blog about Fan-Fiction (you know, where fans sit down and right stories about their favorite television characters -- a great example of which is a rollicking-good work I recently came across which took as its inspiration the hypothetical positing of what would happen if Sarah Michelle Gellar's Buffy the vampire slayer and her mentor Giles the librarian, circa season two, were locked in the library and... er, perhaps we'd better never mind). Anyway, the interesting thing is that works of the fan-fiction sub-genre "RPF" (or Real Person Fiction -- fiction involving real people) have sort of become opera-non-grata among the fan-fiction elite, and Kathryn has a great deal to offer as to an explanation.

She is also surprised that at FanFiction.net, where RPF will no longer be kept, there was, at one time, a number of Who's Line Is It Anyway? stories. This comes as no surprise to me, however, because I already knew that Colin Mochrie has a legion of overly-devoted 14-year-old fans with copies of Macromedia Flash (again, a program which should be strictly regulated by the government and only sold to those who absolutely have a demonstrated need for it). Watch these and be afraid (also amused and possibly scarred, but mainly afraid). Specifically I'm thinking of "Hyakugojyuuichi!!" (not suitable for small children) but many other animations there are equally bizarre and Mochrie-filled ("Lesko's Revenge" for example). I haven't watched all of the others so surf at your own risk, but the ones I have seen are pretty astute observations on American popular-culture as filtered through the lens of Japanese Pokemon songs. Here's the guy's main page.

We just watched the series premiere of Firefly. Here's all you need to know about the show: while it's set in the future (500 years) and in space, the show is a Western. It is a Western set about six years after the end of the US Civil War and the protagonists (some of them, including the captain and the first-mate) fought for the "Independents" side (against the victorious "Alliance"). Also, the writers and producers of the show appear to be treating all of their (fascinating) characters fairly, so I, for one, can't wait to see what is done with the priest ("Shepherd") character, Book. The doctor character, too, protective of her "government-experient" sister (both of whom are on the lam) seems to be shaping up nicely: it's been a while since we've seen a doctor intentionally dope-up the rowdy and injured cowboy (Stephen Baldwin) to relieve him of his (temporary) command of the ship.

The show is funny, filled with ethical choices on the parts of all of the characters, and features some top-notch Lucas-grade CG sets and effects (the old-Western hover-train was especially well-done). Also, I've heard that the Joss Whedon, executive producer, has made certain that no matter which of the first five episodes you start watching you will be able to pick up the story. So next Friday night at 8pm on I'll see you on-board the Serenity.

One thing I get asked often in my travels is "What is Mike Nelson up to?" And so I say "Mike Nelson?" And they say "Yeah, you know: the guy from Mystery Science Theater 3000... the one who wasn't high all the time." And I say "Ohhhh! Mike Nelson!" And they say "Yeah! What's he up to?" And I say "I don't know." And then I look down at my shoes until the other person walks away disappointed and confused.

Well no more. I know that Nelson's web project "Timmy Big Toes" is, alas, no more... and I've read the first of his two books... but what is Mike Nelson up to these days? I shall take it upoin myself to find out.

Though I still say that genuflection (at the least) is the sign of respect you show a King. Posture, bodily gestures, movement -- all of these have meaning, real and literate meaning, which can be 'read' not only in our own hearts but by those in the culture around us.

Hey -- I'm all for it! And I thank Frederica Mathewes-Green for saying it! We have to make sure the necessary support is there, of course, in either their families, peer groups, or the culture-at-large. It's not fair to the folks expressing their sexuality properly in marriage at an age when that sort of thing comes most readily and immediately if we're only going to be cramming the old "wait until you know who you are" or "you got married too young" stuff down their necks. But if any kid of mine came to me at age 18 or 19 and said "Hey, pops! Me and Cindy-Lou (or whomever) wanna get hitched," I'd much more readily give them my blessing than have them shack-up or even date seriously with all of those frustrations. Besides, it's the only nearly-certain way of making sure they don't wind up back in the house.

Does "unity" necessarily imply "mediocrity" -- at least as far as the Church in this country is concerned? Where's this coming from? Well, from the dicussion of the Mercedes Principle over at HMS 'Blog and from the whole Eucharistic im-posture flap (on this 'blog and elsewhere).

Stay tuned: the answer may surprise you (and it'll probably surprise me, too, because I haven't thought this one through yet).

Seems that WebTrends Live (they're not getting a link from me!) is discontinuing their "free" website statistics service and I will soon (like, in the next couple days) be in need of another "free" website statistics service. Are there any out there which are recommended for their robustness and fulness of feature-sets? WebTrends, maybe a year or so back, discontinued the little thingie where you could see which google searches brought people to your site, and I've missed that. I haven't changed, though, up until now because it means I have to go through and change every page on my site (yes, yes, I know: I could just use a div tag or something and create a symbolic link to a flat file containing the code... maybe I'll do that). Any suggestions?

"You're on a first-name basis with lucidity, Arthur! I have to call it 'Mr. Lucidity' and that's no good in a pinch!" - The Tick

David Alexander has, dateline September 19 (links aren't working... a-gain), a brilliant post about the whole "you can take your Communion walking" (er, standing) controversy. He puts the issue in its proper perspective and states clearly what I was trying to intimate in my own unwaveringly dizzy fashion: "I'm not even sure the 'order' is even binding" so "[s]imply genuflect while the guy in front of you is receiving, then receive on the tongue and call it a day."

He also links, in the same post, to this site (a sort of Catholic Drudge Report, but more frenetic) which links, in return to this unfortunate accident, The Church of the Good Shepherd in State College, PA. "The ambry, the wall-mounted cabinet, is located on the rear west wall of the worship space. ... Thus, the Oils are given a place of dignity and reverence." Wanna guess where they put the Lord (remember Him)? Do a search (on that webpage) for "tabernacle". Right. Nothing. And where are the kneelers, eh? "Kneeling is a posture suited to private, personal prayer; kneeling tends to close out people around us. This should never occur in liturgy." You know what else should never occur in liturgy? Me kicking you in the back of your knees so that you fall on your face and show some reverence for the Lord, that's what.

"For similar reasons, our worship space also has no statues, no votive lights, and no stations." Uh, what reasons might those be? Self-idolatry and communalism? I was about to say that there were some buildings in Pennsylvania that I wouldn't mind seeing an (unmanned) plane fall on but that would be insensitive and that's not the new Victor.

Jackie and I watched the second episode of the remake of "A Family Affair" on the WB. Perhaps there is no justice in this world; Susan Sarandon is winning Academy Awards and Tim Curry is... playing Mr. French. (But he does it so deliciously well!).

RC writes in the comments section to my knee-jerky post immediately below (the one I probably should delete but, let's face it, there are far greater impediments to the cause for my Sainthood than that single post):

Belay that talk, matey. There are a couple of distinct points involved here(1) kneeling vs standing while receiving Holy Communion: the US bishops opted for standing back around 1970 -- since the Missal gives each Bishops Conference the authority to choose this -- so the announcement that standing is the one true licit posture is no news. It's only been noticed because the rule was re-issued as part of the "American Adaptations" to the new Roman Missal.

[Two positive things about these ancient changes are herein snippeted, though I would encourage you to read it in the comments]

When I was in Steubenville, OH, this past weekend, at Mass at the chapel on-campus, the priest mentioned that their bulletin that Sunday would contain the proper posture for receiving Communion. This was, specifically, in reference to the recent directive from the USCCB that the only proper posture for receving the Eucharist is standing. Obviously this has caused some confusion around the country not least of which at the (as I observed) intensely pious Franciscan University. Emily Stimpson, then, of HMS 'Blog asks folks who remember the pre-conciliar Church (a group to which I do not belong) what were there thoughts when the altar rails were ripped out and kneeling was not made the norm in this post here.

Granted there's a long way from saying "this is the preferred posture" to "this is the official and only acceptable posture". One is likely to be left, as I am, scratching one's head wondering how we got there.

On the USCCB website there's this notice from the office of communications from this past February stating the the Vatican had approved a document which would allow the US Bishops their provence in setting postures... but to go from that to outright denying folks their right (and I dare say it is a right) to show obeisance to their Lord?

For reference, here is the Committee of the Liturgy document which specifies that standing is to be the norm. "These norms may require some adjustment on the part of those who have been used to other practices, however the significance of unity in posture and gesture as a symbol of our unity as members of the one body of Christ should be the governing factor in our own actions."

In other words: you can take your personal devotion and piety and just ram it up your snout because you're making the rest of us look like a bunch of heathenous layabouts.

Or, as Steve Taylor sang, "I want to be a clone."

I would say keep on genuflecting or kneeling, if that's what you do, so long as you don't cause other folks to trip over you. Maybe that's disobedience talkin' there, but I think this is one of the more nutty things to come out of the USCCB in a while (in these days of only 40% or so Catholic acceptance of the Real Presence it is precisely the time to encourage GREATER reverence for the Eucharist, not to diminish it) and I expect it this new injunctive to be "re-examined" by the USCCB in time.

Until then, here's a great big "Way to go, Chief!" to the US Bishops for further alienating the pious faithful from their Church.

Yes, somehow a very charming and massive post I'd just written got ate. Next time I'll (ugh!) write it in Word and paste it in. Until, then, however, I have only this to say: "Arrrrr!"

Yes, it be Talk Like a Pirate day. In honor of the occasion, I post the following links to two songs (you may have to right-click-save-link-as on my song because I still haven't figured out the ma-ma-ma-mime types) about Pirates and Sea Captains.

As promised, here is my response to Justin Katz's response to my lengthly post below. My reply is brief because Justin and I (and most Christians, I would hope) actually see eye-to-eye for most of this. The only place we differ is where we (as I see it) draw the line and give up on evangelizing our fellow humans. Justin writes:

There are true monsters in real life. Fictional monsters are monstrous and wicked incidentally (Frankenstein) or as a matter of nature (vampires). Humans have the ability to choose their course — to choose to heed God's urging or to refuse to hear it. Some merely slip, as Victor is claiming to have done in the past; some act out of misunderstanding; and some are beyond the ability of man to change. And we must realize this; there must be a point at which, even as we extend our own forgiveness for harm done (our last attempt to draw out the human Christ), we declare, "This is evil. This is monstrous. This is unacceptable in the eyes of men and God."

I would agree to a point and that point is implied, though not stated explicity, in the excerpt above. If I'm reading him right, Justin feels that there is a point at which attempts for conversion must necessarily end. I'm not entirely convinced of this, and allow me to work out an alternate view. While we can and do declare that this action is evil and not give the actor a clean slate, that does not mean that we can ever stop in our mission of changing their heart, turning them towards Christ. We must never let our anger obscure that fact that first and foremost, this individual is sick and suffering... In a word: this individual, no matter how "monstrous" they appear is Christ. Even with all of their turmoil and rancor, the festering sin which oozes from their every pore, no human being is a monster: just a creature formed by God in His own image. A creature, I state again, who is sick and in need. Our goal as Christians is to do simply, as St. Francois De Salles said, "all things through love and nothing through constraint." We should never be motivated out of anything but love for Christ and love for our neighbor, no matter how monstrous they (our neighbors) appear.

And people may get hurt in the process, I admit that. Christ's way is the way of martyrs. But we take comfort in knowing that the rejoicing in heaven over one who has strayed from Christ and returned to the fold will be great -- far, far greater than if we were to simply cut our losses and give up on them, acting in a constrained and reactionary fashion, unmotivated purely by love.

Albeit, Justin seems to be arguing from one extreme: the extreme where Hitler and Osama bin Laden live. I admit it is more compelling and more of a "stress test" for one's beliefs to argue from such an extreme. Realistically, though, I expect never to cross paths with such people (though perhaps more folks, including myself, should act so as to cross paths with such folks in order to evangelize them). I expect to have more commerce with fallen-away family members or the sort of folks one meets at work or in the grocery store: folks who, like myself, are all sick from the same disease, the same disease from which Hitler and Osama bin Laden suffered: a lack of Christ. For whatever reason we have been given the opportunity and the responsibility to help direct our neighbors towards the cure. Let us pray that we, as physicians of the soul, never opt for the easy way out; even as some of our contemporaries, the physicians of the body, struggle to do just that for their own patients. If euthanasia of the mortal body is a grave and serious evil, consider how much more grave and serious euthanasia of the soul must be.

Wednesday, September 18, 2002

Very cool!

I just learned that my old cartooning buddy from Hillsdale College (6pm Tuesday would usually find us both at the sole copy machine in the Library resizing our cartoons for that week's Collegian. The paper paid three dollars a cartoon which was usually enough to keep me in Twizzlers for another week), Sam Torode, and his wife, Bethany, (creators of Torode Design and authors of Open Embrace: A Protestant Couple Rethinks Contraception) will be on Al Kresta's radio program this coming Monday (September 23rd) at around 4:30pm or so. Hopefully AveMariaRadio.net is streaming again by then.

Shiver me hornpipe! Be tomorrow, September 19th, Talk Like A Pirate Day? I'll be expectin' the lot of you to weigh anchor with me smartly. To help ye, here's a sheaf o' Pirate Glossary for ye.

As someone around here just said: "You'd best be singing a chantey and talking like a pirate or you'll be gettin' a taste of the cat! Remember, dead men tell no tales, and if you don't use pirate lingo, I'll be placin' the Black Spot on ya."

A word of advisement: this is by far the longest post I have ever ‘blogged. It’s likely the longest post I ever will ‘blog. For that reason I encourage you to read it. If you would prefer, you may divide the reading of this post up into more manageable sections by stopping at each division marked thusly: ***. If you choose not to read the whole thing: hey! – no skin off my nose!

Up at 8am for Mass at Franciscan University's campus chapel. Very nice Mass (can't remember the last time I've seen six concelebrants) though the choir of young women should be advised that, while Bernadette Peters doesn't do it a great deal, it is indeed all right to pronounce your "r"s while you're singing. Other than that they sang beautifully and the sermon on forgiveness undoubtedly, though not in any sort of obvious and redundant way, contributed to my spiritual conversion later that day.

After Mass it was back to Damon's (at the hotel) for Brunch served by a hyperactive trio of the elderly (apparently Brunch is a dish best served by those over sixty). They earned their tip. The only conference attendee I noticed immediately was the lady with the rose-colored glasses, a publisher though I never learned her name nor for whom she published. After brunch I checked out of the hotel and made it back up the hill to hear Dr. Kazimierz Braun deliver his talk on covenant and the artist, complete with slides of the rainbow in art. It was a very good talk and I hope to see it published some day so I can enjoy it again. It was an amazing presentation and I cannot do it justice here -- even if my memory were not so faulty. The understanding, though, that I took away from it is that just as God forms covenants with His people, each with their own physical sign, so too does the artist form a covenant with their reader (or viewer) with the work of art itself as a sign. In this sense, as I understand it, the artist has a responsibility to and for the well-being of those who read (or view) their art. Dr. Scott Hahn had a brief reply to Dr. Braun's paper basically saying, as we all felt, "Wow." Someone asked the question, then, in the open-question period: what to do when secular institutions or groups co-opt Christian religious imagery. If Dr. Braun had been aware of the current meaning of "rainbow" he may've had something to say on this point, but he was not familiar with that particular case of symbol co-option. (It was, however, very cute to see that the aging playwright had brought his wife with him to the conference and she could be seen, during each of his presentations, camera in hand snapping photographs of her husband).

After this, though, was the presentation of Dr. Braun's play "Tamara L." I have to say here, without going off on another boring tangent, just how important an art form to me, personally, is drama (the theatre). I was involved with the theatre group at Hillsdale College and I do believe that it's the most authentic, deeply and satisfyingly meaningful, and immediately apprehensible of all the arts. All of them. Beacuse it's REAL PEOPLE you're watching. Embodiment. Like the priest at Mass (though the Mass, is most certainly not drama). Dr. Braun did not disappoint.

***

The play, while fictional, was based nonetheless on a real historical figure: early 20th-century Polish artist and Art Deco figurehead Tamara de Lempicka. The play centers around this painting of Lempicka's, Mother Superior which stands out from among the vast majority of Lempicka's paintings as the character a) is not clearly a lesbian with visible nipples and b) does not have vacant, listless eyes. Tamara L. has come to an Itialian monastery in the late 1930s to paint the Mother Superior, but also as she is feeling full and well the meaningless in her life. The Mother Superior, we come to learn, is well aware of Tamara's work (and lifestyle) as she had earned a doctorate in Modern Art before her own retreat to the Monastery. This does not become the cloying "180-degree conversion story" you'd think it might become, were you not familiar with Polish drama. What it was was a fair, deeply poignant, deeply conflicted dialogue brilliantly acted by the young Franciscan actor playing Tamara L (seriously, her performance blew my mind -- that I should see a performance of this calibre at Franciscan University!). Anyway, the production brought tears to my eyes -- twice. Immediately apprehended was the pain of the artist who takes on all the ugliness of the world, tries to tame it, to make it beautiful, to make it meaningful, only to fall victim to that same ugliness, that same nihilism. The tears of the Mother Superior in the painting are not the Mother Superior's tears, but Tamara's own, shed for her own lost soul. This, of course, strikes Tamara as repugnant, loathesome, and a sign of her own weakness and reliance on something greater than herself and her endless quest to seek gratification in the arms of whatever man, woman, drug, or bottle in which she can find it.

But -- souls can be regained. And the play ends on an up beat as the Mother Superior insists (after persuading Tamara not to destroy the painting) that it is the "rule" that the Mother Superior should walk the guest to the gate. Over Tamara's objections, the old Mother Superior further helps the artist with her heavy art supplies and as the two women walk off the stage towards the audience Tamara asks, implying the whole conflicted long dark night of the soul the two women have survived together, though referring to the simple act of kindness on the part of the old nun in helping her carry her gear, "And is this also the rule?" "No," replies the old Mother Superior. "This is the Gospel."

I really hope the one-act play is published and performed by other drama groups around the country. Trust me: I've seen good theatre and I've seen bad theatre and this was seriously good theatre.

After the play was over there was a panel discussion with Dr. Braun, Barbara Nicolosi, playwright Buzz McLaughlin, and Regis Martin (I believe). This was by far the most interesting part of the entire festival as you had the screenwriter and Hollywood insider (Nicolosi), popular playwright (McLaughlin), old-school playwright (Dr. Braun), and Catholic writer (Martin, I believe) hash out their differences (with the audience, too!) and what came out of that discussion really brought into focus, for me, what we, as Catholics, are to be doing with our work, our writing, our art.

***

Essentially, I came away from the discussion with the impression, not hopefully unique to myself, that there was something quintessentially Christ-like in the suffering of the Tamara character in the play. Sure, she’d lived a life a Christian would have to consider to be “immoral” but one wonders that if she didn’t have to do it, another artist might have. Again, it has been suggested that all of the ugliness of a culture is thrust upon the artist with the injunctive to make something beautiful of it, no matter the internal torment this may cause the artist. As such, the artist suffers for the sickness of the culture. In fact, further, it is because the artist is quite so often sick herself that she is able to so accurately understand the illness of the culture. Is this inner torment, this sickness integral to the artist? I certainly hoped not. But if it was? We are all, in that we are not Christ, sick to varying degrees. I thought about this as I said my goodbyes to the other attendees at the conference and pointed the car towards home.

What would be my role, then? Could I ever feel truly satisfied, truly worthy by not writing? Certainly the culture needs healing and people, artists, to make sense out of its ugliness. Since the culture’s ugliness to some degree resides within me, I can understand it. And since, also, Christ resides within me, I know the cure for the ugliness. But how to best lead people to the cure – or to even make them aware that they are sick? Surely this is where fiction comes in: the novel, the screenplay. Would I ever be able to help people in some small shadow of the way Walker Percy’s novels saved me those five years ago?

These thoughts guided me for the first 200 miles, or so, of my journey homeward. It was not until I reached Ann Arbor, one town from home, when the full impact hit me and a veil was torn away.

If the artist becomes sick and suffers and if even the most seemingly healthy of Catholics can become an artist… what then? If there is something Christ-like in the hedonist, drug-addled, bi-sexual character of Tamara L. what does this mean for the rest of the people on this planet? In an instant I found myself shaking (though keeping the car solidly on the road, I should add). Suddenly it all became perfectly clear:

There are no terrorists. There are no gays. There are no criminal executives at work bankrupting their employees and investors. There are no corrupt politicians. There are no Arabs, no Iraqis, no abortionists, no Americans, no Catholics, no Protestants, no pedophile priests, no mealy-mouthed Bishops, no victims. There is only Jesus. Jesus suffering. Jesus in need of our help. People sick and suffering and desperately miserable to various degrees who need Jesus, though they may not even realize that He is what they need or even that they are sick at all. In an instant I felt twenty years of anger, twenty years of bitter frustration towards all of the people I thought I resented fall away from me. I had been accomplishing nothing with my anger and yet I thought I needed it. I thought I needed it to sustain me, to keep my going, to give me something to fight for. In fact, it had only clouded my vision. Tears began to pour down my face. “Thank you, Jesus,” I cried – as He had just removed perhaps the heaviest of my burdens, the one keeping me most from Him and from giving myself completely to those around me.

I was crying too, though, because everything had suddenly become perfectly clear. I didn’t need to save the world. I didn’t need to set my jaw resolutely and to angrily do battle with the hordes of Vandals at the gate. That’s not my job. My job isn’t even to chastise or mock or ridicule them. My job is only to help diagnose their illness and hopefully, perhaps though my writing (?), to help them understand how sick they really are – how sick we all are. And then to merely indicate in which direction lies the Cure. Jesus will do the rest.

I tried to regain my composure the best I could before I pulled into our driveway. I’d been away for almost three days and Jackie would surely wonder if I pulled-up in tears. As I entered the house she noticed my puffy red eyes and commented that I looked as though I’d just been in a fight. I told her everything immediately for, indeed, I just had.

Since then, since Sunday (the relevance of this week’s Gospel is not lost on me, for I believe it, and the Eucharist, to be the Keys which unlocked my experience) I have been thinking: what does this mean for the Church? What does it mean to truly forgive? To realize that the people we call monsters, those who plowed four planes into the buildings and into the ground last September weren’t monsters at all: they were people, God’s creatures, suffering as we all suffer – as Christ suffered. They were sick in exactly the same way we all are sick when we do not have Christ living within us – sick with anger, with avarice, with spite, misery, hatred, malice, jealousy, sloth, greed, lust, pride: evil – I’ve had at one time or another a bad case of them all. But what do we as Christians do then, one we realize this? How do we bring others to Christ? How do we help Him cure them? How do we help Him cure ourselves?

I don’t know how long this new insight will last. Likely it will fade and be forgotten in time and I’ll either turn my attention towards writing – towards culture diagnosis and towards showing people their, our, my own illness and the Cure – or I won’t. For now, though, I take comfort in the realization that for now I’ve lost my anger – and, Lord, I never thought I’d be so happy to be rid of it. Thank you, Jesus.

At least WorldCom's fraudulent practices were more or less legitimate... You know, leasing company jets to executives for $1 a year, transferring line costs to cap-ex... that sort of thing.

But now there's news that Tyco has uncovered $100 million in fraudulent employee bonuses, including a $6,000 shower curtain for the CEO's apartment and $1 million for his wife's birthday party last year which included -- this is the best -- "an ice sculpture of Michelangelo's David with vodka streaming from his penis into crystal glasses."

Now, since I am half-Flemish and since we did give the world manniken pis I can tell you that there are ways of doing the whole "peeing sculpture" thing tastefully -- but not with Michelangelo's David. Why? Well, I simply don't have time to explain to you right now why this is so wrong.

Though if you have to have an ice-sculpture pee anything, alcohol is probably the best option since its evaporation temperature is so much less than water's, it wouldn't erode the tracts of the scupture through convection.

Back at work now I find not only 300 emails to munge through but also that my Fantasy Football team, Robot Team #1, is first in our league! There are 10 teams in our league all managed by die-hard football fans, so that's pretty cool. Jimmy Smith doesn't play this weekend, though, so I don't expect to do too well.

I awoke somewhat reluctantly at 7:52am. So much for 8am Mass (daily Mass -- which includes Saturday -- is the custom at FSU for students and faculty and apparently conference goers as well). Breakfast was coffee courtesy of the ready-to-brew filter packets in the hotel room (I have come to LOVE in-room coffee.. whoever thought of that is a genius). I showered, shaved and drove the 300 feet (straight up) from the hotel to FSU. It was also around this time that I learned that (apparently) Franciscan University of Steubenville has, on or immediately near to its property, real life government project housing. I imagine this enhances the whole ministry aspect of the college but to me the arrangement seems less than ideal.

I did manage to snag a dougnut, thanks to the conference which provided them and met, all too briefly, the winsome Emily Stimpson who soon disappeared to, herself, grab a doughnut. My own doughtut (filled with strawberry jelly as that seemed the healthiest option availble to this non-doughnut eater) had seemingly been powdered with confectioner's sugar some time after the glaze had solidified such that one bite sent white inconvenience showering down over my shirt and shoes. I dusted myself off, however, and made it to the first session on time. Sandwiched between Barbara Nicolosi's two presentations (which were superb, which were what I'd come all that way to see, and which I will carry with me forever -- at least until such a time as I can attend one of the Act One programs she offers), there was a talk by some Polish playwright named Dr. Kazimierz Braun. Dr. Braun has three PhDs, countless plays, at least one novel in English (and 24 other books), and many many years of teaching to his credit. He also participated in Karol Wojtyla's theatre workshops while Wojtyla was Archbishop of Krakow. I enjoyed very much his talk on prayer and craft in the writer's life. I also learned a great deal more than I'd known (which was nothing) about Polish poets and playwrights. It was not until the next day, Sunday, however, that I learned what a truly brilliant playwright Dr. Braun is. The one-act drama presented then contributed to my genuine conversion on the ride home. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

After lunch, which was provided though I somehow sat at one of two seats in the entire place which didn't get served before the lunches ran out -- though the dining hall staff was gracious enough to heat something up in a microwave which I scarfed down, it was time again to listen to Ron Hansen who told a humorous and as-yet-unpublished story about disposing of a dead dog's corpse and took questions from the audience. He mentioned that when he does not write he feels physically ill. I haven't written any music in a long time and I think that's why I've been so sick (though not necessarily physically) lately. We'll see about that. Ron Hansen then said that he feels ill even when he is writing, and I can appreciate that too. Since Barbara Nicolosi had mentioned it at dinner the day before, I asked Ron about the movie adaptation of Mariette In Ecstacy. He humorously related that movie's unforunate development and merciful demise -- though complete it will never (and I think we can all be thankful for this, from what I've heard) never again see the light of bulb.

The last presentation that day was delivered by an overall-clad Marcus Grodi who'd just published his first novel. The thing I admire most about Marcus Grodi is his genuine and unaffected manner of speaking. He used his recent farming experiences and tribulations as a metaphor for the new novelist's struggle -- and did so very effectively. I rather enjoyed it. And after this talk it was time for dinner, for which Mrs. Kathryn Lively was gracious enough to leave her station at the FrancisIsadore E-Press table to join me for a discussion about Star Trek, rewrites, and how to pace one's self while writing a novel. After dinner it was back up the hill for the writer's roundtable with the most eminent participant being Ralph McInerny -- the conference's only smoker -- he is a true writer and philosophy professor -- and also at the same time its eldest participant (from what I could see). I also learned from Bud McFarlane, Jr., that the best way to get your book into the hands of hundreds of thousands of readers is to have Michael O'Brien help you with the rewrite and also to give it away. Also -- of course -- to write a good book to begin with. I've started reading the first of his novels and I don't know yet if it falls into the CATHOLIC FICTION trap (which is, of course, that it screams "I AM CATHOLIC FICTION!!!" before it screams "I AM A GREAT STORY!" but I'm only on page three).

After the roundtable I headed upstairs to listen to a group of kids who seemed to range in age from about six to thirteen playing traditional American and Irish music while a bunch of children (we're talking pre-High School age here) squaredanced and many many small children ran around. This was weird to see on a college campus (made more so by the lack of actual college students) even considering my matriculation at Hillsdale. I think I would've gone nuts at FUS. Or I would've become holy. Or both. But probably gone nuts first.

I did finally meet up with the second of the two of the conference's attendees who had actually written screenplays (eight of them). A FUS grad named John W. who did join me for a drink at the hotel bar to discuss movies and writing in general, shared some insight on the actual screenwriting process which was invaluable. After this, and another phone call to Jackie, it was time for bed. Mass was at 9am and counting the long drive, I did have a long day ahead of me.

But I had absolutely no idea how sublime a day it would turn out to be and how it would change my life forever. Indeed, I still do not know how my life has changed. I'm now grasping for the few remaining memories of that vision, that insight -- to retain them and hopefully to allow them to grow.

Monday, September 16, 2002

CWF Log, Part I: Friday, September 13, 2002

All right, this isn't so much a log as a retelling of the events of the past weekend. I left Plymouth, MI, at around 11:15am MapBlast directions in hand with the intent of making it to The Franciscan University of Steubenville by 7pm at the very latest (when Ron Hansen was scheduled to deliver his keynote address). I made one stop on the Ohio Turnpike (it was at one of the nice service plazas: it had a Starbucks and a Panera Bread) and made it through the mountains to Steubenville by a quarter of five. I checked in at the hotel and then drove up the hill (the University is built on a series of small hills on top of a really big hill) to register. It was sunny and hot and the campus was teeming with really healthy-looking students (no anemic or mawkish and moping goths here!) and I was nearly mistaken for one of them by the conference's director. After registering I wandered around the college for a bit so I'd know where everything was. The atmosphere was not unlike Hillsdale in that it was very quiet and very clean. What is unlike Hillsdale, though, is the Catholic nature of the University -- including an adoration chapel on-campus. As I walked by it I noticed a couple of dozen backpacks and shoes by the door and many students inside in Eucharistic adoration. At the beginning the wood-chip-lined path which led past the stations of the cross I noticed more sandals indicating that some folks were walking it barefoot. I thought I'd check it out but it was very hot. And since I didn't want to be accidentally struck by any low-flying levitating Franciscan students, I went back to the hotel.

The Holiday Inn in Steubenville, Ohio, has a Damon's Rib joint built right into it which is cool so I went there for dinner. I had a yummy salad and a couple of cups of coffee. As I finished the second cup of coffee I noticed Ron Hansen seated at a table nearby with some old folks. He must be staying in the hotel, I thought. Then I noticed Barbara Nicolosi, who runs the annual month-long Act One program for Christian screenwriters, seated alone at a nearby table. Since her two sessions were pretty much the main reason I'd come all that way to the conference, after I finished my coffee and paid for my meal I wandered over and introduced myself saying that I had seen her on EWTN and read all the books she recommended on that program. She invited me to sit down and have a cup of coffee (she'd not yet received her meal) but the chip in my head said to me "Coffee? You just had two cups. You don't want to overdo it." so I said no thanks and left.

Once outside I called Jackie and said "You'll never believe who I jut ran in to! Barbara Nicolosi! She asked me if I wanted to have a cup of coffee with her!" "Uh, why are you talking to me?" Jackie said. "Get back in there!!!" So I went back in and sat down and ordered some dessert (and another cup of coffee) and had a nice conversation (I thought) with Miss Nicolosi about the conference, movies, and Walker Percy (she'd just read "Love in the Ruins" and was nonplussed by it, wondering why Catholics would claim Percy as a "catholic writer". I was stunned -- given Nicolosi's public and often-stated affinity for Flannery O'Connor -- but then realised that "Love in the Ruins" is really a "guy" book. Percy is really, thinking about it now, a writer for "guys" (not necessarly for men or for males). I recommended, "The Second Coming" as that book tends to be more accessible for folks not of the guy persuasion. Anyway, I helped out with the tip and gave her a ride up the hill (none of the maps mention that the 200 feet from which the hotel is away from the University is 200 feet STRAIGHT UP) and she offered to give me a copy of her book on screenwriting which she was selling for $15 -- and it's the most concise book yet on dos/don'ts, formatting, etc, I've seen) -- in exchange. So that was neat. She asked what I was hoping to get out of the conference and I decided right then that it was to discern whether or not I should spend any more of my precious free time writing. Also to meet all the St. 'Bloggers who'd be there. We both read Eve Tushnet's 'blog, it turns out (even though it makes my head hurt).

Then it was time for Ron Hansen's keynote address. The entire address was an example of what Hansen does best: storytelling. He told the story about two 19th Century English poets who were friends: Gerard Hopkins and Robert Bridges. Of the two Hopkins was the better poet but as he was a Jesuit Priest he would never get anything published in his lifetime. He sent his poems to Bridges, who later became England's Poet Laureate, who denigrated them. Nowadays, of course, it is Hopkins' poems which everyone knows about (except me, it seems). The unstated moral of the address was that if you're doing something well, keep on doing it until you die -- even if (or especially if?) your audience is just one unappreciative S.O.B. A lot of people didn't get the moral of this, the world's longest koan, and so I think some may've been disappointed with the keynote.

Afterwards, however, I got to meet the St. 'Bloggers: Sean Gallagher, Kathryn Lively, Tim Drake, James Mallon (I didn't actually introduce myself, though, because he was always talking to other folks), some other folks (like Brother Peter from St. Paul, another aspiring screenwriter -- though he's actually written screenplays), and then Greg Popcak and Mark Shea. I was surprised to learn that some folks like Bert Ghezzi (allegedly) had read my 'blog. I was also surprised to see that many of the young guy writers had brought along their wives and small children. This had never occurred to me.

Even with all this excitement, there wasn't really a party going on there, on-campus. Everyone must be back at the hotel, in the bar, I thought. This being a CATHOLIC WRITERS festival there surely must be much drinking and merry-making and deep discussions going on SOMEPLACE. So I went back to the hotel to call Jackie. As it was 10pm and there was a new episode of Monk on, I watched that -- any party would only be picking up speed by 11pm, I thought. So at 11pm I went across the parking lot of the hotel into Damon's (which has a bar).

There were two old men sitting at the bar. And that was it. No writers, no Algonquin Roundtable. Lame. So I left and watched cartoons on the Cartoon Network until I thought I was sleepy enough to sleep but as I was still jazzed from all the coffee and excited about what the next day might bring sleep did not come quickly.

Yes, I'm linking to a piece on National Review Online. But only because it's by Dreher and he actually knows what's going on in the whole Rose contra mundum dealie-o. It's a very nice piece, not just for those interested in the whole Michael Rose situation but also for all 'bloggers everywhere who post some what spuriously and off-the-cuff (note: the word "allegedy" or the phrase "it seems that" are a 'blogger's best friends). One tip, though, to Dreher's editors at NRO (hahahahahaha): "blog" is not a word. "Weblog" is a word and it is abbreviated "'blog". (Howma doin' Nihil?).

Also: It seems that Mark Shea is really tall. You might not pick up on that from his 'blog, but I met him on Friday night and he allegedy is.

I apologize for my latency in 'blogging this morning. I'm still decompressing (so to speak) from the weekend. There was a lot to mull over (or ruminate, as they say) and I'm still processing a lot of it. Never fear -- there will be a concise yet witty (if not entirely proofread) summary of the weekend up here by this evening in case you want to know what happens when 200 Catholic writers decend upon Steubenville for the weekend (note: one thing they do not do, from my experience, is drink hard or smoke hard and that was a colossal disappointment).

I did just now "win" a new, sealed copy of the Steve Taylor 2-CD boxed set "Now The Truth Can Be Told" on eBay (which has been out of print for 8 years) for $15.

Sunday, September 15, 2002

I am back! Back home, alive after a five hour drive. Some pretty incredible (yet subtle and humble, in keeping with the Franciscan way) things happened this weekend at the Catholic Writers Festival in Steubenville, Ohio (my first trip there). Some even more incredible things happened on the ride home, thanks to the seeds planted there -- today. I wasn't sure even when I arrived what I hoped to get out of the experience (though by Friday night I knew why I was there), but I never would've expected what I got. I didn't think I deserved all the Grace I'd received up until this point (something along the lines that I thought one needed to be pure or worthy of it before one could receive it)... so receiving a fistful of it unexpectedly (espeically at 78mph -- tears, contact lenses, and speeding automobiles do not mix) on the interstate was a bit overwhelming. But I finally get it now. I get all of it. And it is overwhelming. But now I know why and what to do about it. And that gives me hope.

More on this tomorrow if I don't convince myself by then that it was just my imagination even as I am certain at this moment that it was not.

Friday, September 13, 2002

Time to saddle up.

Well, it's that time. I've put it off as long as I can but if I'm going to make Ron Hansen's keynote speech I'm going to have to leave now. I doubt I'll be able to 'blog this weekend (I'm not as wired as some folks -- no WAP laptops, no cellular modems), so you may just want to check back on Monday for a report of the CWF festivities. But you never know. I may find an unlocked computer with web access someplace.

Well I've finished all of the errands in preparation of this weekend's trip down to Stuebenville, OH, for the Catholic Writers' Festival. Now I just need to prep the car for the trip (and then burn some toonage, pack, plan a route -- though I have an Ohio map so I may grab my shades, hop in the car, drop the pedal and go... go... go! etc.). The entire affair, however, is still in the air: Jackie seems to have come down with some variation of the cold from which myself and 'Xander are now almost fully recovered. If she's not much improved by tomorrow morning I may not be going. Or else I'll be going -- but truly feeling awful about going.

Over at HMS 'Blog, Greg Popcak is looking for names for his new peahen and peacock. I suggested Flannery for the peahen (as did Amy Welborn) with Walker being, then, the only suitable name for the peacock. The notion to name the peahen "Flannery" of course comes from Flannery O'Connor's essay "The King of Birds" which is found within her posthumously published collection of essays and talks Mystery and Manners: Occasional Prose. Well, the thing is that now that Amazon.com is doing that new "look inside" feature where they print the first few pages of the book, it turns out that the entire first essay which begins that book -- which happens to be "The King of Birds" -- can be read online for free over at Amazon.com. As it's certainly one of the finer non-fiction pieces that O'Connor has written (in my estimation) and since it's free, it's definitely worth heading over there for the read.

It also brings to mind the fact that you can hear each and every one (with one exception) of They Might Be Giants' "Fingertips" off of their Apollo 18 CD over at CDNOW.com. The "Fingertips" tracks (tracks 17 through 37 on their Apollo 18 album, their finest album in my opinion) are each one (with one exception) well under 30 seconds -- which is the standard length of the CDNOW.com audio sample. So by simply clicking on each track you can hear it (for free) in its entirety (though only in Windows Media Monopoly format).

So there are a couple more freebies for you if you're tired of listening to ApologetiX's "The Real SinSavior" (see post below). Thank you, Obidos!

So much to 'blog, so little time. I heard recently that the Michael Rose situation has been inaccurately portrayed as of late and that he's really not going all William Randolph Hearst on everyone, which is a big relief -- it means I have one less thing to be disappointed and sad about (and it also means that I can read the rest of this month's New Oxford Review without feeling compromised). As they say, it will all come out in the wash. But that's it on that for now. I'll be back tomorrow morning.

No, not parodies of Christian Music, rather Christian-Music parodies of popular songs.

We start with a look at Nick Alexander's site. He's billed as the Catholic Weird Al and his parodies are smart and well done. There are many audio samples to be found at his site. Hopefully someday I will be able to buy one of his CDs. My favorites are "Get Canonized A Saint" (a parody of "Fly Away" by Lenny Kravitz) and "Therese of Lisieux" (a parody of "Electric Avenue" by Eddy Grant).

The other group we're featuring in this post is ApologetiX. They've got a lot of fire in their bellies and the worst pop-up window anywhere. They have complete songs for you to download including a hilarious tune "Smooth Grandmama" (a parody of "Smooth Criminal" by Michael Jackson) and "The Real SinSavior" (a parody of "The Real Slim Shady" by Eminem -- and they had to have listened to the original A LOT to nail this parody as well as they did).

Here's the latest word on Joss Whedon's new show Firefly which will primiere Friday, September 20, on FOX.

Joss was the creative brilliance behind Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel and we here have high expectations for his new show -- it had better not start to suck after four years!

Anyway, one of the characters is a priest. You can read his little character write up on that page I have linked -- and he actually appears to be a sympathetic character. And while Joss will publicly state in interviews (and has done) that he has no deep and overwhelming respect for conventional or organized religion, one hopes he'll at least do right by the characters he's created (which he did until about season four or five of Buffy) and that we'll be spared any "Book the priest meets Inara the space-hooker" episodes anytime soon. We'll keep you posted though. The show already looks pretty interesting -- enough to give Andromeda a run for its money? Unless Andromeda brings back Rev Bem (a priest-like character who was treated with reverence), it certainly looks that way. Stay tuned.

My apologies in advance to anyone who came here looking for September 11th answers or meaning because I got nothing. Amy Welborn, on the other hand, does. Check out her blogpost beginning "How could they do it?" (archives aren't working properly at the moment).

Okay, so I've been trying to find a copy of one of the new Sam Adams Light "Shockingly Good Taste" print ads in order to fulfill a request for a friend of 'blog and so I'm doing a google search on "Sam Adams Light print ad". And you know what I'm finding? I'm finding that Sam Adams has had shockingly bad taste when it's come to advertising for at least the past nine months.

Check out this editorial from the Washington Blade where the writer applauds Sam Adams for running an ad where a man is coerced into having sex with a transgendered "female" when s/he offers him a beer (he quickly forgets that s/he was once -- how to put this delicately -- "packing" and resumes tonsil-hockey).

Then there's this story where the writer applauds Sam Adams for pulling an ad where cops reply to some loud music and when they knock on the door all the underage kids whoopin' it up hide their brewskis. Of course Sam Adams only pulled this ad after the outcry over the whole Opie and Andy thing caused some pretty intense scrutiny to come their way.

One could ask how these commercials ever made it past the board over there at Sam Adams, but that's just the point.